


One Wrong Move (and Everyone Will Know)

by MiraMira



Category: Frozen (2013), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Little Mermaid (1989)
Genre: 5 Things, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, Crossover, Family, Gen, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-23 04:44:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2534651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiraMira/pseuds/MiraMira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five ways Elsa never learned to control her powers (and one way she did).</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Wrong Move (and Everyone Will Know)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alianne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alianne/gifts).



> Happy Halloween, alianne! I hope this sampling of treats and tricks meets with your approval.

**i. fixer-upper**

“We'll lock the gates,” Papa says. He tries to sound sure and commanding, like a king should. But Elsa can tell he is scared, which frightens her even more. “We'll reduce the staff. We will limit her contact with people, and keep her powers hidden from everyone.”

“Papa, no!” cries Elsa. “What about Anna?”

“Anna, too, sweetheart.” Papa bends down and strokes Elsa's hair gingerly, as though he is afraid of hurting her – or being hurt. “She can't know, or this will happen all over again.”

“That's not what I mean,” Elsa protests. “You can't lock her up, too!”

Her father sighs. “I'm sorry, Elsa, but there's no other choice.”

“Yes, there is,” says Elsa, the plan forming as she speaks. She turns to the troll king. “ _You_ can teach me. Can't you?”

“We can,” says the troll, “but–”

Elsa draws herself up, the way Mama does when she's about to issue a royal command, or tell Anna that's enough messing about. “Then I'm staying.”

Mama lets out a noise between a gasp and a sob, but makes no other objection. Papa's eyes are sad, but there is something else there, too. Elsa thinks it may be relief. 

Blinking back tears of her own, she turns to her still-sleeping, untroubled sister. “Goodbye, Anna,” she whispers.

The king takes her by the hand and shepherds her away from her departing family. “Do not worry, child. You will see them again. Until then, we will care for you.”

“And you'll have company!” a female troll calls out cheerfully. As Elsa stares, she leads a young boy and a baby reindeer into the clearing. 

“Hi,” says the boy. “I'm Kristoff.”

**ii. more than this provincial life**

“Go away, Anna,” says Elsa, and means it for once. How can she concentrate on whether Viola and Sebastian will ever find each other when the sound of tapping keeps interrupting her?

But the tapping's not coming from outside her door, she realizes as it starts up again. It's at the window.

A bird, she thinks. Which is odd enough by itself: birds usually avoid her frosted windowpane and the chilling air currents that seep from her room, no matter how hard she tries to maintain control. But this one seems particularly determined. And large.

Before it can break the glass, she pushes aside the shutters and opens the pane a crack, intending to shoo the feathered visitor away. Instead, she finds herself staring at a snowy owl, clutching a large envelope in its beak and wearing an expression of unmistakeable frustration. It drops the letter at her feet, lets out a single irritated hoot, and flaps away.

“Wait!” Elsa calls once she has recovered from her surprise, but the owl is already a vanishing speck on the horizon.

With no other explanation likely to be forthcoming, Elsa picks up the envelope. She nearly drops it again as she takes in the address of its intented recipient, written in blue calligraphy on fine white parchment: _Princess Elsa, The Locked Bedroom, Arendelle Castle._ The return address proclaims its origins as _Beauxbatons Academy of Magic_.

Elsa knows she should bring this strange missive straight to her parents, but it _is_ addressed to her. And surely there can be no harm in just reading?

Breaking the seal as carefully as she can, she opens the letter and skims its contents. _Extraordinary talents_ , she reads, and _pleased to offer_ , and _other young witches_.

A slow smile spreads across Elsa's face. There will be a conversation with her parents ahead: a difficult one, she suspects. But for the first time in...well, practically forever, she no longer feels alone.

**iii. poor unfortunate soul**

The water should be colder, Elsa thinks. Perhaps it is, and she simply can't feel it. Or perhaps she's already drowned. At least she can't hear the screams any more, or the crash of timber as the rest of the ship falls into the sea.

On the other hand, she also can't see any driftwood, and her gown is growing heavier by the moment. If she's not dead, she will be soon.  
Unless...

She stretches out her hand, and the waters around her stiffen. Another push, and they grow glassy, then smooth. Trying not to think where she might be now had she reacted to the storm sooner, she clambers up on to the ice.

Suddenly, the patch beside her grows darker, and a huge bulk comes rising from the depths to smash through the surface. Elsa frantically works to cover the cracks, but halts, mouth agape, as something half-woman, half-octopus comes slithering toward her.

“Well,” the—woman? Woman, Elsa decides, as a contralto purr wraps around her like the tentacle now caressing her cheek. “You're a powerful one, aren't you?” She studies Elsa's gown, lingering on the hem. “And a long way from home. I may be able to help you with that.”

Elsa finds her voice. “At what price?”

The woman laughs: long, loud, unrestrained. “Clever, too. But greater dangers than even me inhabit these waters, my dear.” She gestures grandly with an outstretched, violet-skinned arm. “Come. My home is not far. I promise you safe passage, which is not an offer I extend to just anyone.”

“And a safe return?” Elsa demands.

“If you wish it.” The woman's eyes gleam. “There is much I could teach you. And much I suspect you could teach me.”

Lost, tired, and alone as Elsa is, what choice does she have? And then there is the part of her, growing stronger by the moment, eager to seize on an opportunity to speak with another magic user, however monstrous. Perhaps this voyage will have answers for her after all. “Lead on.”

**iv. god help the outcasts**

“Sister? Sister!”

“Go away, Anna,” Elsa murmurs reflexively, before remembering where she is.

“Beg pardon, Sister Sophia,” the voice Elsa now recognizes as the cloister's most recent initiate apologizes. “Queen Anna has come to the chapel again for vespers. She requests your presence. Will you attend?”

Elsa takes a deep breath. “Tell her I continue my meditations until God reveals the nature of my affliction to me, and cannot. I pray for her health and wise rule.”

“Yes, Sister.” The novice's footsteps fade down the hall.

A tear slides down Elsa's cheek, suspiciously cold. She redoubles her prayers.

**v. no rules for me**

“Don't be the monster they fear you are!” Hans implores, and Elsa hesitates. Reluctantly. 

Building the castle had been pure, unpent release; the snow monsters the latest and largest in a long line of desperate defenses. The shields and spikes are something different, though. Something directed.

It's been a long time since Elsa felt anything resembling control over her magic where other people were involved.

She hears the crossbow twang, the chandelier rumble. Of course. A distraction. Only one person truly cares whether Elsa is a monster or not, and Elsa has already driven her away. There is no one else left. No one else who matters.

The chandelier freezes in mid-collapse, bolstered by a fresh pillar of ice. Its prisms resume their flight, this time directed outward.

“I'm queen, aren't I?” Elsa tells Hans's corpse, once the screams and tinkling of shattered ice have subsided. “I'll be whatever I want to be.” 

**1\. an open door**

“Elsa? Elsa!”

Elsa sets aside her book of fairy tales with a guilty start as Anna, Kristoff, and Olaf come barrelling into the library. “The delegation from the Southern Isles is here!” Anna pants. “They say they want to make amends, but they've brought three of Hans's brothers, and a _lot_ of soldiers, and...”

“Anna.” Elsa lays a hand on her sister's shoulder, pausing as always for a second to marvel at the warmth. “Relax. We'll handle it.”

“You promise?” Olaf stares up at her hopefully.

“I'm queen, aren't I?” Elsa smiles. “Besides, we have resources those Southern Islanders don't even suspect. Kristoff?” She turns to Anna's companion. “Would you and Sven kindly inform the trolls of this turn of events? Just in case.”

Kristoff grins, and salutes. “Yes, ma'am. Err, Your Majesty.”

Elsa glowers at him.

“Sorry. _Elsa_ ,” says Kristoff sheepishly. “I'm on my way.” He gives Anna a quick peck and departs.

“Do you want me to tell them you're unavailable?” Anna asks. “Buy us some time?”

“No, let's give them a chance to behave themselves,” says Elsa, trying to quiet the part of her that hopes they won't. She pushes back her chair and straightens her spine. “Lead on.”

**Author's Note:**

> The dialogue that begins sections i and v is taken directly from the movie.
> 
> In certain cultures, Saint Sophia is known as one of the "ice saints."


End file.
